Last Days of the Samurai / 琴の爪 / Koto no tsume (‘The Koto Pick’, 1957)

Obscure Japanese Film #263

Chikage Ogi and Tojuro Sakata

1702, the 15th year of the Genroku era. After 47 ronin – former retainers of Lord Asano Naganori – avenge their lord by attacking and killing Kira Yoshinaka in Edo, they wait for their punishment to be handed down, knowing they will likely be sentenced to commit seppuku. The leader, Lord Kuranosuke Oishi (Koshiro Matsumoto VIII), has noticed that one of his men, Isogai (Tojuro Sakata), seems especially untroubled by the situation and wonders whether his bravado is genuine. Isogai was engaged to be married to koto player Omino (Chikage Ogi), who had no idea that he had been planning to take part in such an action. She’s desperate to speak to him, but the ronin are not allowed visitors, so she puts pressure on her uncle, Den’emon (Ganjiro Nakamura), a member of the clan, to intervene…

Koshiro Matsumoto VIII

Ganjiro Nakamura

This Toho production was based on Oishi saigo no ichinichi (‘Oishi’s Last Day’), part of the Genroku Chushingura series of kabuki plays written by Seika Mayama in the 1930s which revolved around the famous Ako Incident.* Understandably, then, the cast consists largely of actors from the kabuki theatre, although their performances here are not stagy and are, in fact, perfectly appropriate for the cinematic medium. Running a mere 53 minutes, it was the sixth film in the ‘Toho Diamond’ series, which were stand-alone B-movies adapted from various literary works with running times of around an hour.

It was also the third film directed by Hiromichi Horikawa, a former assistant to Kurosawa who made some good films but perhaps never lived up to his early promise. Here, obviously working on a tight budget, he omits the attack completely and the film mainly consists of people talking on tatami. However, thanks in part to Horikawa’s precise blocking and effective camera placement, it nevertheless makes for compelling drama, and Masaru Sato’s subtle, unintrusive score is also a definite asset. There’s also a nice line in dry humour, perhaps provided by another Kurosawa collaborator, screenwriter Ryuzo Kikushima, who co-wrote the screenplay with Tokuhei Wakao – at one point, the men realise that none of them know the correct etiquette for committing seppuku as they’ve never seen anyone actually do it, while when Omino attempts to disguise herself as a man in order to gain access to her fiancé, Oishi takes one look at her and says something to the effect of, ‘You wouldn’t happen to be a woman by any chance, would you?’ For me at least, this modest little film is a gem which deserves a higher rating than the 5/10 it currently has on IMDb.

Ogi in feminine and masculine guises

*This series of plays had already been the basis for Kenji Mizoguchi’s two-part film of 1941-2.

BONUS TRIVIA: The film led to the marriage of actors Tojuro Sakata and Chikage Ogi, the latter of whom later became a politician. 

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The Samurai of Edo / 江戸一寸の虫 / Edo issun no mushi (1955)

Obscure Japanese Film #241

Rentaro Mikuni

In the last years of the Tokugawa shogunate, six people are sentenced to exile for attacking two arrogant British VIPs who had broken etiquette by going through a torii on horseback, beaten a Japanese man who tried to stop them, and entered a shrine without removing their boots. Government official Aoki (Rentaro Mikuni) objects to the sentence and resigns in protest, choosing to become a ronin rather than serve a regime he does not believe in. He shacks up with former prostitute O-Tatsu (Michiyo Aratama) and spends his days lying around drinking sake until one day he’s approached by the Shinchogumi, who want to expel the foreigners from Japan and are seeking his assistance. Reluctant at first, he eventually decides to help and, in the process, meets rich man’s daughter Tae (Michiko Saga), with whom he falls in love…

Michiyo Aratama and Mikuni

This 123-minute period drama is one of the more ambitious productions to have come out of Nikkatsu studios. Adapted by regular Kurosawa collaborator Ryuzo Kikushima together with the obscure Michio Otsuke (whose only other credit appears to be a 1956 movie about kamikaze pilots*), it was based on an untranslated novel of the same name by Minoru Nakano (1901-73) serialised in the Sunday Mainichi magazine in 1955, the same year the film was produced. Nakano does not seem to have been an especially well-regarded writer, although Mikio Naruse made two films in 1935 based on his work, The Actress and The Poet and Wife! Be Like a Rose! His Japanese Wikipedia page states that he co-founded an organisation named the Cultural Patriotic Association during the war years and fell out with his friend the comic actor Roppa Furukawa when the latter criticised Nakano’s support for the war.

Michiyo Aratama

The obvious anti-foreigner sentiment in The Samurai of Edo would have prevented such a film being made during the years of American occupation (which ended in 1952). Although the behaviour of the British men at the beginning of the film is outrageous, it’s an entirely fictional incident as far as I’m aware. The film’s xenophobia, which waxes nostalgic for the days when all the gaijin were kept out of Japan, may well be one reason why it’s not better known.

In regard to the main cast, there’s a strong performance from Rentaro Mikuni in the leading role even if – as was typical for him – he’s perhaps a little too unsympathetic to invest in emotionally. At one point, Mikuni gets to beat the crap out of a mob of samurai single-handed, something which he pulls off very well. Given his famous pursuit of realism – also evident in the scene in which he spits blood out of his mouth – one can only feel sorry for the actors playing his opponents. The female stars fare less well. Michiyo Aratama, who’s probably best-remembered these days for her role in The Human Condition (1959-61), gives a better performance than her doormat role deserves, while Michiko Saga (daughter of Isuzu Yamada and star of The Mad Fox) looks pretty enough but is defeated by her thinly-written part.

Photographed by Kazue Nagatsuka, a veteran from the silent days who later became known for his work with Seijun Suzuki, it’s a good-looking and well-made film which also has a decent score by Yojimbo composer Masaru Sato, even if there’s a little too much of it. There’s also a little too much of the film itself in my view, as I can’t say that the two-hours exactly flew by… Still, if you’re a fan of jidaigeki of this period, I would say check it out if you get the chance as there are certainly some things to enjoy here.

This is actually the first film I’ve seen by director Eisuke Takizawa, who had been an actor in the silent days before turning to directing in 1928; he subsequently made 84 films before passing away in 1965. His only brush with international recognition came with a Golden Bear nomination at the 1958 Berlin Film Festival for Byakuya no yojo (aka The Temptress and The Monk). Anyway, based on the evidence of The Samurai of Edo, he may be worth investigating further as its flaws are mostly in the material itself rather than the handling of it, which is more than merely competent throughout.

The original title references the Japanese saying 一寸の虫にも五分の魂 (issun no mushi ni mo gobu no tamashii), which can be translated as ‘even little worms have souls’, ‘a tiny insect also has a spirit’, etc, or – more literally – ‘even an insect measuring 1 sun (about 3 cm) has a soul (heart) measuring half that size, or 5 bu (about 1.5 cm)’ [Google AI Overview etymology] or ‘it is said that even an insect less than an inch in size has a soul equal to half its body length’ [imidas.jp translated by Google]. 

* Nake, Nihon kokumin: Saigo no sentoki (‘Cry, Japanese People: The Last Fighter Plane’)

Film at Amazon Prime Japan (no English subtitles)

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Across Darkness / 闇を横切れ / Yami o yokogire (1959)

Obscure Japanese Film #234

Hiroshi Kawaguchi and So Yamamura

When a stripper is murdered in a love hotel, suspicion naturally falls on Ochiai (Kappei Matsumoto), the mayoral candidate found drunk and unconscious in the same room, but ambitious rookie reporter Ishizuka (Hiroshi Kawaguchi) smells a set-up. Urged on by the editor he idolises (So Yamamura), he starts digging and exposes a tangled web of corruption leading to the current mayor (Jun Hamamura) and transport boss Hirose (Osamu Takizawa). Along the way he falls for the dead woman’s best friend, a fellow stripper named Motomi (Junko Kano)…

Jun Hamamura and Kawaguchi

This Daiei production was from an original screenplay by regular Kurosawa collaborator Ryuzo Kikushima and its director, Yasuzo Masumura (Kikushima also co-wrote Masumura’s Afraid to Die and The Hoodlum Soldier). As you’d expect from Masumura, it zips along at a snappy pace, but unfortunately that in itself is not enough to make an engaging picture, a point that this one certainly proves. It doesn’t help that it relies so heavily on the very limited talents of Daiei boss Matsutaro Kawaguchi’s son Hiroshi, who is in almost every scene, while the slight lift the film gets when the more charismatic So Yamamura is on screen is insufficient to counteract the Kawaguchi effect. Junko Kano is also effective in an almost Gloria Grahame kind of way as a woman who’s been more or less forced to get by on her looks but retains her sense of self by generally refusing to turn on the charm that men seem to expect of her.

Kawaguchi and Junko Kano

Even with a better actor in the lead, though, I question whether this movie would be much improved – somehow, there’s just nothing convincing about the characters or situations or any real reason why we should care about any of it, and I was left wondering what on earth this film’s raison d’être was supposed to be, especially as it’s impossible to take seriously as a political drama. Perhaps it was intended as a send-up of American film noir but, if so, it falls spectacularly flat. Unusually, there’s no music score – presumably the producers felt that the endless amount of talk (much of it shouted) would render music unnecessary. All in all, it’s no wonder, then, that this has been one of the more obscure items in Masumura’s filmography – it’s definitely no hidden gem, that’s for sure. Of course, that’s just my opinion and it’s only fair to note that most of the Japanese viewers’ reviews which can be found online are quite positive, so maybe I’m missing something…

Osamu Takizawa

The print quality on the Japanese DVD release is not great and contains numerous scratches. 

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She Came for Love / 女が愛して憎むとき / Onna ga aishite nikumu toki (‘When a Woman Loves and Hates’, 1963)

Obscure Japanese Film #138

Ayako Wakao

Toshiko (Ayako Wakao) is the madam of a bar in Osaka who tries to keep her private life private and claims not to have a lover. However, she is in fact having a secret affair with Ozeki (Jiro Tamiya), a concert promoter who specialises in booking American artists and dreams of bringing Elvis to Japan. Ozeki is married and reluctant to leave his wife (Tazuko Niki), as she can speak English, which is very helpful to his business. Toshiko is well aware of all this but is apparently satisfied with the arrangement. 

Jiro Tamiya and Ayako Wakao

 

Although Toshiko’s bar is successful and she is a popular hostess, problems begin to arise. Her despised ex-husband (Akihiko Katayama) reappears and keeps bugging her; one of her employees, Nobuko (Kyoko Enami), is being a bit too flirtatious with the customers; Ozeki is making some risky deals and getting in over his head; and her former boss and mentor, Rie (Mitsuko Mori), is unhappy with her because Toshiko’s cheap whisky is tempting customers away from Rie’s bar…

Kyoko Enami

 

At times watching this, I was reminded of Naruse’s When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960), which is understandable as not only does this Daiei production cover similar territory, but it turns out that, like Naruse’s film, it also has an original screenplay by Ryuzo Kikushima (a frequent collaborator of Akira Kurosawa). The story is character-driven rather than plot-driven – something which is a major strong point of the script for me, and gives Wakao an excellent role which she plays to perfection. Toshiko undergoes a rather bitter inner journey and is not the same person at the end of the film that we met at the beginning. She Came for Love may well be a case of the script and cast being more important than the director, though the little-known Sokichi Tomimoto handles all aspects well. In any case, it’s a fine film which deserves to be better-known, and it should be a must for all fans of Ayako Wakao.

Mitsuko Mori

 

Although quite famous in her home country, Mitsuko Mori (who plays the important role of Rie so convincingly) is unlikely to be familiar to many non-Japanese viewers as she had a patchy film career, first appearing in 58 films between 1935 and 1941, most of which were undistinguished B-pictures. After a long hiatus from the big screen, she made two films in 1957, and then worked in films fairly steadily – mainly in supporting roles – from 1961 until the early 1970s. However, during most of her periods of absence from the cinema she was busy with radio, television and stage work. Her signature role was as author Fumiko Hayashi in the stage version of Hayashi’s autobiographical work, A Wanderer’s Notebook; she performed this over 2,000 times from 1961, although when Mikio Naruse filmed it the following year, it was Hideko Takamine who won the part. No surprise, then, that Mori never went on to make a film with Takamine, although Naruse subsequently employed her for a part in his final film, Scattered Clouds (1967). 

 Thanks to A.K., and to Coral Sundy for the subtitles, which can be found here. 

 DVD at Amazon Japan.

The Eleventh Hour /どたんば/ Dotanba aka They are Buried Alive (1957)

Obscure Japanese Film #24

Eijiro Tono

Based on a television play by Ryuzo Kikushima[1] which was itself based on a true story, this Toei production concerns five coal miners who become trapped underground after a flood and the subsequent attempt to rescue them before they suffocate. One of the endangered miners is played by Kurosawa favourite Takashi Shimura, who seems set up to play an important part, but unfortunately he soon disappears for most of the film as Uchida and co-screenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto decide to focus attention on events above ground. Indeed, The Eleventh Hour is not only a film without stars, but also one which lacks any major characters to speak of, and this choice rather dissipates the drama in my view. However, there are certainly some familiar faces among the ensemble, including Eijiro Tono as the bad-tempered foreman and Eiji Okada (who went on to star in Hiroshima Mon Amour and Woman of the Dunes) as the spokesman of a Korean mining team. Okada had apparently worked as a coal miner himself, while Uchida also had experience of working in the mines during the war. 

Eiji Okada

 

As the fate of the miners hangs in the balance, it sparks a media frenzy and a crowd gathers at the mine while an ice cream seller makes a killing. These scenes briefly recall Billy Wilder’s Ace in the Hole (1951), but ultimately Uchida’s film has little in common; the reporters portrayed here are polite, respectful, and appear to be genuinely hoping for a positive outcome. Instead, Uchida gives us a surprisingly sentimental and typically Japanese movie in which people have to work together in order to surmount their difficulties and achieve a common goal, although he does add an extra wrinkle; in this case, they also have to overcome their anti-Korean prejudice as they will need the help of the Koreans working at another mine nearby if their rescue efforts are to succeed.

Takashi Shimura

Given that Uchida has made some really excellent films and the script was co-written by the great Shinobu Hashimoto, I had hoped to discover a hidden gem here, but actually found something that more closely resembled a lump of coal – a functional item with little sparkle. The Eleventh Hour is by no means a bad film, and technically the underground sequences are very well achieved (presumably in the studio), but these should have been much more suspenseful, so overall it’s not difficult to see why this particular Uchida film has remained so little-known.

 For more on this film, see The International Uchida Tomu Appreciation Society website

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[1] Like Shinobu Hashimoto, Kikushima frequently worked as a screenwriter for Akira Kurosawa. The TV play was broadcast live the previous year on NHK and featured the TV debut of Rentaro Mikuni. As a kinescope recording was made at the time, this work still exists. It was directed by Hiroshi Nagayama, who seems to have no film credits and presumably worked only in television.